Metro 2033: Liberation
by ElegantValkyrie
Summary: Just a few weeks after the events of Metro 2033, Artyom meets a new survivor who expands his knowledge of the known underground world... and hopes to save him and the whole of Metro while there's still something left worth saving. (Artyom x OC) Rated T for now but will be upgraded as the story progresses.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

"It's too late now, the boss is angry; wants to see you immediately." A gruff voice stated haltingly.

"No, wait! Tell him I'll get him everything he wants, please!" The shrill cries of a smaller man kneeling on the tracks of this particularly barren stretch of tunnel did nothing to sway the larger one, standing over him with an automatic machine gun, his finger stroking the switch impatiently. "I h-had trouble at the border, that's all. You know how it is with these rules about passes for transport goods!"

There was a cautious moment of silence and then the large man grinned as his eyes were cast down the far end of the tunnel ahead of them. The smaller man followed his gaze, his eyes wide and his brows knit. Distant footsteps were heard thundering forward and the echo made it very hard to discern whether it was one person or a whole army.

The sound grew steadily, until three figures began to emerge from the abyss. Coming to a stern halt squarely on the cross tie in front of the kneeling man, he followed the worn pair of combat boots upwards, the sight becoming more shocking as it climbed the unexpected form.

"Well then." Spoke a smooth voice, it would have been comforting, had he not known the context of the situation he was in. "What seems to be the problem, Herr Schmidt? Are you no longer in need of our services, or have you simply ceased to function as a useful member of society?"

She spoke like a scholar or politician, calmly and yet condescendingly. He examined quickly her figure; tall and thin, lightly armored - yet armored. She also held a matte black machine gun, but didn't seem to be grasping it as tensely as her comrades. Her short red-brown hair fell around her face, as if it were slipping from the clip behind her head. Her face was young and pale; she couldn't have been any older than twenty-five. His jaw hung agape, his tongue struggling to form a word. Her eyes pierced at him, and she waited for his response.

"Y-you're a... I mean you-you're Aleksandr Dmitriyev? I thought-" The small man stuttered.

"AleksanDRYA." She raised her eyebrows, challenging him to continue prattling, daring him to continue to delay answering her question. He received the hint quite clearly.

"No, no, of course not. I-I mean, there's no problem at all mis-" His sentence was cut from his lips by the swift motion of Aleks drawing her silenced Makarov pistol from its holster at her hip and aiming it at his head. It seemed like a flash of lightning had gone off in that brief moment, as if she had manipulated the very fabric of time. His hands flew up beside his ears to protect himself instinctively and he crumpled further downward, cringing.

"You may not have known, so I will tell you now, if it is one thing I cannot stand - it is a liar." She took a deep breath and then relaxed her weapon arm, crossing it over her other arm pensively. "Now, I shall give you two more days. Ivanovich will be keeping his eyes on you until you reach Theatre station. You will deliver my message and bring the supplies to the Ring."

The man nodded silently, slowly, the whole time as she was talking; anything to keep that pistol from pointing in his direction again. Anything to keep her soldier's eyes from tearing him apart in their minds, wanting to make their fantasies a reality.

"Did I make anything unclear to you?" She leaned down to him, returning her pistol to her holster. He was finally able to let out a breath.

"N-no, I'll get on it straight away. Thank you, thank you. I'll never speak a word of this to anybody, I swear!" He began to stand up and back away slowly, gathering up his backpack and jacket that had been dropped during the initial scuffle.

"No. You won't." She seethed, letting the malice in her eyes show through until he turned his back and ran as fast as he could back to Tretyakovskaya.

Aleks sighed and relaxed her stance, rolling her eyes in annoyance. Lifting her machine gun out of the leather holster on her back, she took a few steps forward to where the small man had been kneeling down. The large guard began to chuckle and stepped forward with a lopsided grin.

"What is funny, Ivanovich?" Spoke the shortest soldier to the biggest.

"The look on their face - never gets old." Ivanovich, the large guard, balanced the magazine of his weapon on his shoulder and put his free hand on his belt.

"Stupid traitors, thinking they know everything. Thinking they can get away with slacking off. You would think Reich would stop sending so many spies. How many have we turned into errand boys, Aleks?" Spoke the other soldier who had been standing at her side.

"They aren't spies." She spoke in a voice so low it was almost consumed by the expanse of the tunnel. "They are just like us."

"What do you mean?" The same young man raised an eyebrow.

"A Reich operative wouldn't cower and piss on themselves. Think about it - they send scouts, outcasts like us to do their dirty work and report back." She shook her head and turned around to face her companions. "I feel sorry for him."

"So why scare the poor guy like that, then? If you knew so much about it." The soldier crossed his arms and made a pouting face.

"We can't afford to show any weakness. Outcast or not, he is still being used by them, and they do not easily give up." She narrowed her eyes and turned her head back down the tunnel. Many kilometers and a line transfer away was the Fourth Reich territory - their former home.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Artyom!" There was a muffled knock on the hard metal frame of the door. "Are you awake or what? Can't stay in bed all day forever, you know." The voice was playful. It was definitely Ulman, come to check on him.<p>

Artyom groaned and rolled onto his side, his senses slowly returning to reality. Suddenly he remembered that they were in D-6, that he didn't live in a station anymore, it was the light in the small room that surprised him the most. Never thinking he would live to see this mythical place, that it even existed, let alone have his own room in it, he absorbed every detail he could until Ulman began knocking again. Pushing the heavy metal door aside, he was greeted by the mischievous expression on Ulman's face.

"Come on, it's time you got out for a bit. We've got a mission. Orders came down from Melnik this morning!" Ulman nodded excitedly, beckoning him outside.

Artyom took another quick look around and then went to his locker, inside was the traditional Polis Ranger uniform - gray and blue urban camouflage pants and jacket, shiny black leather boots, a black tactical vest and all the little pouches and accessories you could ever need or want - all crisp and smelling of a musky wooden crate. He slipped it on over his under garments quickly, Ulman was tapping and humming impatiently, but Artyom knew it was just for comical show; he knew just how to keep the mood light even in the most serious times and Artyom welcomed it, having been plagued by nightmares for the past few weeks since his previous mission - on the surface at Ostankino Tower.

Just a few short hours later, the combatant pair were rolling down the tunnel from Mayakovskaya in a small electric cart; they were to be the replacement fire team at the Church outpost on the surface. Artyom inspected his newly-issued automatic weapon thoroughly, impressed by its metallic sheen. He was certain after a few moments of admiration that it had never been fired before. Just how many weapons or other military artifacts had been in storage at D-6 all this time? Had the previous world's inhabitants stockpiled such items in anticipation for what might come upon them at some point? Perhaps they knew exactly what would happen.

Ulman stopped the cart just before the entrance to Belorusskaya and dismounted from the driver's seat. Artyom looked ahead to the entrance, expecting to see a searchlight or checkpoint but there was none. Only two dim emergency lights flanked the opening to the passageway to the Hanza Ring. He looked disbelievingly at Ulman.

"What, no guards?" He poked, hoping his simple question would evoke Ulman into a full explanation.

"They know it's only us Rangers coming through here. We've cordoned off the Reich territory – precautions." Ulman spoke with an unusually solemn voice, letting Artyom know he didn't intend to speak further about it.

He was then handed a new passport, within the pages of which he found an entry stamp for the whole of Ring territory; and they hadn't even been to a customs table! It was completely astonishing to Artyom, remembering how difficult everyone had always told him it was to enter Hanza territory – even if you didn't intend to stay there. He recalled with disgust his last journey through that line and it began burning him up inside how easy everything seemed to be going. How helpful this would have been to have before he had ever reached Polis…

"They will still search us; they want to make sure we aren't planning anything." Ulman stated plainly, heaving his rucksack onto his back.

"Like what?" Artyom spat out before he could think. Sometimes his curiosity got the better of him.

"Like a takeover." Ulman shot him a look of annoyance, but then flashed a smile as if he had never been irritated. "They want to be sure that we aren't going to try to take over the whole Metro now that we are in charge of D-6. Melnik and the council at Polis had a hell of a time striking a deal with them. For now at least, we have an… arrangement."

Artyom was still curious, but decided just to nod his head in understanding and keep his mouth shut. He deduced that Hanza agreed to be courteous to them and offer transit to Sparta Rangers in return for preventing a Reich advance. All the pieces were starting to fall into place in his mind.

"So we'll go along the ring to Oktyabrskaya, then up to the surface through the radial station." Ulman nodded his head at Artyom as a way to elicit his affirmative response.

"How far is it from the exit to the church?" He asked after he had nodded back.

"Not far, there's already a pretty clear path to there because of the car." Ulman referred to the armored truck that the Rangers used to traverse the surface sometimes. "But always be on the lookout for mutants, you can't predict them for long."

Artyom nodded his head again and they passed into Belorusskaya station with no further conversation.

When they did enter the main station, they could hear the bustle of the market – this being an important trade post for the Collective Farm stations that supplied nearly the entire Metro with pork, chicken, mushrooms, potatoes, and liquors. Angry sounding foremen barked orders at their workers, pushing them to work faster loading up a cart with goods. A few patrolling Hanza officers were about, usually in pairs, making their rounds to see that everything was running smoothly. Artyom almost thought it was strange that they didn't carry rifles, but only a sidearm in a holster at their belts.

He admired the beautiful lighting that he had so fondly admired upon his first visit, there were real lamps shining down on them from decorative brackets sticking out from the relief carvings on each pylon arch. The marble tiled floor was immaculate, though dulled from heavy traffic. A banner hung on the back wall displaying the brown circle logo of the Ring stations.

Making a swift step in front of him, Ulman crossed the main platform towards a small table at which sat another officer in a gray uniform.

"Artur Sergeyevich!" Ulman stepped up to the man with his arm extended.

"Ulman, my friend! What brings you to visit me today?" Artur rose from his seat promptly and extended the opposite arm towards Ulman and placed his hand on his shoulder. Ulman, returning the gesture, explained to him quickly where they were headed and then looked over at Artyom, who understood that as his cue to come forward.

"Ah, so this is your strong young man who saved the Metro. It is my honor, Artyom. I am Artur Sergeyevich; I'm an inspections officer here in Hanza. "

"Nice to meet you." Artyom shyly spoke; he hadn't fully considered that he'd saved anybody, or that it would seem so alien to him that a complete stranger would know anything about his actions.

"So then, we'll just go through the formalities and get you on your way." Artur smiled at them both, reassuring Artyom that this wouldn't be as terrifying as a typical inspection. He thought that Ulman must have known this person for a while and that perhaps Artur Sergeyevich wouldn't particularly take notice even if they had tried to bring a massive arsenal through his station. They were probably friends before their discovery of D-6, and perhaps even before the over world disaster, although he reminded himself that Ulman was not much older than him – perhaps he was about thirty?

Enduring a quick pat-down and an examination of Ulman's rucksack, they were soon sitting on the transport trolley. Artyom counted the three filters he was given for the surface trek, and screwed one into his mask before putting everything back into his small pack. He began to mentally prepare himself to go to the surface again, doing everything in his power to not relive any moments from the tower. Instead he chose to think about how clear the air was at the top. He considered that it was only the radiation in the ground and the water that hung like a fog over the city, just one thick layer at the bottom that had congealed like pork fat in the pan after it's been cooked. Once you got higher, the air was thin and crisp. Had all of the air been so clear in the old days of their city? He thought that maybe, if there was a way to rid the soil of that disease, to dispel the fog, then perhaps it was possible to live on the surface of the Earth once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Exiting the trolley at Oktyabrskaya, the two Rangers immediately headed for the stairway passage to the secondary station. This Hanza station wasn't much different from any other, except for the salvaged train body that had been pulled up onto the platform and seemed to serve as some kind of office. Two men in combat dress stood by one of its doorways and Artyom heard what sounded like an authoritative female voice echoing angrily from within.

Radial Oktyabrskaya was a free-transit station, really just a small appendage of Hanza, with whom the original inhabitants must have struck a good deal with early on. There was a large market in the middle of the main hall and every crevice smelled of delicious cutlets of pork and fried potatoes. Artyom wondered if it usually smelled this good or was it only that too much time had gone by since his last meal? He was tempted to stop, but Ulman's pace through the pedestrian traffic was relentless.

"Maybe on the way back, eh?" Ulman yelled back to Artyom, who was also just noticing how loud the area was.

Artyom nodded a solemn reply, patting his pocket to make sure he'd even remembered to bring any cartridges for trading with. The slight clink confirmed his query.

Reaching a small fire barrel at the other end of the market in a secluded hallway, Artyom counted four soldiers gathered around it and Ulman spoke quietly to the one on the far left. Another soldier offered a cigarette to his neighbor, who gladly partook, and they begun a quiet but enthusiastic conversation about their latest excursion to the local brothel. Artyom tried with difficulty to not listen, until Ulman's man nodded his head precisely once and then turned to his comrades, taking up a metro-made rifle in his hands.

"Two going out." He stated sternly, the other three men swiftly taking positions around the iron barricade that separated them from the outside world.

"See you around, Yuriy!" Ulman called over the noise of the motorized door before pulling the visor of his helmet down.

Artyom followed suit, sealing his own visor over his face, double-checking the filter he had placed in it earlier. The pair watched intently as every ray of light that sprawled its way across the filthy marble floor multiplied. Several residents in the tunnel around them shielded their eyes and turned away, Artyom thought that it was possible they hadn't seen the light before. It wouldn't be implausible.

The fire team of four guards each took paired positions beside the door frame, aiming their weapons keenly up the escalators. Only labored breathing was heard for a minute as they searched, watching and listening, and then at last the commander eased up and stood straight. He gave the two Rangers some sort of lazy salute and ordered his men back inside the confines of the station and the door began to grind shut again.

Artyom was surprised to find himself step forward first, taking a deep breath and hoping to feel in his lungs the crisp air he had been fondly remembering a few minutes ago. But there was only the staunch and close embrace of the filtered sludge in his nostrils. It was clean, but somehow he could tell the difference. The air, if you could call it that, was heavier. He almost gagged but managed to cover his surprise with a cough.

Ulman stepped up the first few feet of the escalators, checking for its stability before uttering a satisfied grunt and plunging forward. At the top they found themselves in what was a remarkably undestroyed building, the ceiling was arched similar to the tunnels and at one end there was a tall black metal gate leading to the street. The plaster was cracked and discolored, but it almost seemed as if this were a place abandoned by time and not by war. It gave off an eerie feeling, as though there might have been people here just moments ago and yet for some reason they just picked up and left without touching a thing.

Artyom was in amazement, letting himself wander just a bit from Ulman's footsteps, and neither of them seemed to notice. The air was a bit lighter here than at the bottom of the escalators, and any fears he might have had about returning to the surface again were quelled. Instead he had begun to fear returning to the dark tunnels.

Before he could get too caught up in his internal philosophy, Ulman was prying open the meal gate and summoning him to follow closer. Artyom jogged for a few steps to catch up and could already see the narrow cleared street that Ulman had mentioned before. The Orthodox Church outpost was sitting stoically in the distance, its golden onion dome shining dully in the light of what he guessed was afternoon. There wasn't a soul or sound to be heard, it almost seemed too easy!

"Hurry up now, the guys are waiting for us. I bet they've made us some tea." Ulman chirped and Artyom could tell he was smiling beneath his helmet.

Tea sounded amazing, and while their journey hadn't been long or arduous, Artyom was looking forward to being still for a time, to catch up on the thoughts he was immersed in earlier.

Ulman pushed the gate back into place after they had passed through, and they picked up a quick pace in the direction of the outpost. Artyom was timing the beat of their footfall with the sound of their breathing and it began to meld into some kind of natural music. He relished the rhythm, trying a bit harder than usual to stay in step with his partner, and they were shortly at the doors of their home for the next few hours. Ulman knocked forcefully.

"Password!" Shouted a muffled voice from inside the sanctuary.

"С днём рождения!" Ulman called back quite excitedly. Artyom tried not to giggle, but also wondered if it was actually anyone's birthday.

The heavy door opened with a creak, and inside a very large man with a heavy automatic weapon stood at ease.

"Спасибо!" He replied in a gruff but cheerful voice, lowering his weapon and then placing it carefully on a metal tripod stand nearby.

Ulman and Artyom stepped in and another man closed the door behind them. Each of them removed their helmets and Ulman ran a hand through his hair, straightening it towards the back of his head. His black mane had gotten long since Artyom last saw him without a helmet.

"Come in, yeah, we just made a fresh pot of tea!" Spoke the young man behind the door; he must have been about Artyom's age.

"Aha, see, I told you!" Ulman winked at Artyom and then followed after the large man towards the fire.

"You're Artyom, yeah? I'm Grigori, Grigori Igorevich. It's nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you as well. How long have you been a Ranger?" Artyom looked into the stranger's face, there was a certain naivety about him, but he had to trust that he had earned his position somehow. Not that Artyom himself was really one to judge such things.

"Not long, for sure. I just graduated the training. I was orphaned in Polis from the beginning, a few of the Brahmins took me in, but I always wanted to be a soldier, to protect people." The young man led him over to the fire to join the others and begun pouring them each a cup of mushroom brew.

"To protect people…" Artyom mused to himself. He took his cup of tea in slow motion, blurred to the conversation around him as he contemplated the meaning of the sentence. He recalled the Inspection Officer they met earlier that day at Belorusskaya, and how he had been referred to as a 'savior.' Something soured in Artyom's mouth at the memory and he returned his cup to the makeshift table between himself and the wall.

To protect people usually also meant to sacrifice something, and what had he sacrificed along the way to protect his home station and the people that he loved there? What had he sacrificed of said station in order to get to Polis on Hunter's deranged mission? How many people sacrificed things for him, in support of his journey? What had it all been for? Artyom thought that peace and calm would overcome him when he had reached his destination and accomplished his goal, but it had always seemed like one thing led into another without him knowing where it actually ended. Now even though he thought he had finished, life continued on, and the only difference was not knowing what the next step was. To live in damned comfort in D-6 and going out on scheduled patrols for the rest of his wretched, and likely irrevocably shortened, life? No, that could not be the whole of it.

For a time, he watched the interactions of the men around him, talking, joking, laughing, and it all seemed so ridiculous. How could the weight of the dead city around them not affect them in any way? How could they sit so complacent and make light of it?

He excused himself from the group by the fire, offering to take over the post upstairs in the watch tower. The older man in the tower was relieved when Artyom offered him a refilled mug of his tea and sauntered off, muttering something about the searchlights.

Artyom went straight back to work at contemplating the meaning of life, if you could call this existence anything of the sort. What exactly had been worth saving at such a cost? The relative comfort of the people and the hallways he knew so well at VDNKh. Their well-being had seemed like such a noble thing to defend that he did so without a second thought. He had felt responsible for it, for all of it, for leaving the northern barrier door open to… them. The Dark Ones, who took Hunter, or killed him? Nobody knew. Nobody had ever seen him or heard from him again since that night after Artyom's last watch at the four-hundred and fiftieth metre.

The mysterious Hunter, who seemed to know his way around so well, who seemed to know what to say to people to make them believe he'd already known all about you. Now here he was standing on the other end of his mission, completed, and he was realizing that he hadn't known Hunter at all. The only reason to trust him was the urgency, and the forcefulness of his voice. He could still see Hunter, thrusting that cartridge memento into his hands.

Come to think of it, he never found out what was written on the note inside that peculiar capsule. Was that a regular system of secret messaging between members of the Spartan Order? He was hard pressed to recall any other Ranger using such technology to communicate. Was everyone, perhaps, issued a cartridge like that for a dying message in case of emergency? And if so, why had he not received one?

On the other hand, what would he have even written on it? At this moment in his life he didn't really have family, or anyone he could say actually knew him that well. He had thought of returning to Prospect Mira in hopes of tracking down where Sukhoi had fled to, but he wasn't about to admit to being terrified of journeying back to where he'd come from. Things would have seemed impossibly hopeless had he returned there, now that everyone had been evacuated. He wondered, had they even tried to go back to VDNKh since the missile strike on the Botanical Gardens? Were the Dark Ones truly dead?

A flash of white light preceded a darkness in his vision and he felt faint. Leaning crookedly against the wooden railing of the balcony at the top of the church, he grasped at the frame of the small window in front of him, trying to steady himself. A searing pain crept under his skull, making his senses short out. He blinked; he strained to see, struggling to stay on his feet.

Flickering flames danced in the distance and he was drawn to it, unsure if he was walking or floating. He looked left and right and only saw the velvety black of nothingness, just the vast expanse of empty space, dark but without the oppressive ceilings of tunnels. Closer and closer he approached it, until he reached the orange glow which had steadied and then stood still. He was watching the sunset, and what had been shadowed before was gradually illuminated to reveal the broken city around him. He shielded his eyes from the glare until the light dissolved. A tall black body stood rigidly in front of him and he knew instantly what it was. It couldn't be possible. Cold terror overtook his whole body and a shiver ran down his spine; every hair stood on end, the electricity of his fear was building up.

Artyom ran, turning on the heel of his boot he took off as quickly as he could in the opposite direction of this monstrous thing, but it was hopeless. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw the figure still standing behind him, just a few paces away, as if he had barely moved at all.

"Wait." It spoke in a monotone voice, echoing in his ears. "You don't understand."

"I don't want to!" Artyom cried, still in mid-step in slow motion.

Time now seemed to have stopped entirely for everything but the Dark One. It shifted itself in front of him, staring at him with its cold gray eyes.

"You don't understand." It repeated. Echoing, playing over and over again inside his mind.

"Let. Me. Go." Each word from his mouth took so long to spit out and still retain its ferocity.

"We need you." The Dark One spoke in a whisper and then faded back into darkness. Everything in darkness.

There was a howl, a scream as if he'd never heard before, then there was growling. Next, Artyom found himself looking quite closely at the gap between the wooden floor boards. He had returned to the real world, and time was going fast here.

"Come on Artyom, get up, we need you! Are you okay? What happened to you?" Ulman shook him violently; grabbing the edges of his body armor he lifted him up to his feet. "Never mind now, get on that spotlight and stay alert!"

Ulman rushed back down the stairs with his rifle already in his hands. Artyom looked below to see all the other Rangers gathered by the door. He turned, feeling his head reeling, and flipped the switch on the spotlight. An intense white light beat down on the icy surface of the ground for a moment before it began to flicker, and then it went out.

"Artyom!" Ulman called, and he knew what his inflection meant.

He pushed the lever back and then turned it on again, this time it flickered twice first and then stayed on. At the moment he was about to call down to tell them the light was working, he heard the door open. The big man with the heavy gun stepped out first, flanked by the other four soldiers who had been sitting at the fire drinking tea.

The firing began, and Artyom heard more howling. He reached for his machine gun leaning against the railing and aimed it out the window at the edge of the path they had walked up on. He scanned carefully for movement and when his eye caught a rustle in the weeds, he opened fire on the unknown anomaly. A low growl was heard before the movement stopped and the light went out again. It was almost dark out now and there were anguished grunts coming from downstairs. Artyom kicked the stand of the light in anger, flicking the switch off and on again until it turned on again.

"Artyom, we need you down here!" Grigori called out with a hint of terror in his voice.

Without another thought or hesitation, Artyom leapt down the stairs and rushed out the door, shoving it closed behind them all. Three men were blindly firing into the bushes and crevices of the earth. Grigori was nervously reloading the magazine of his weapon, his eyes darting around in search of a surprise target. Artyom tried to follow his gaze, to give the young man cover while he fiddled with his weapon.

Suddenly, a ragged Nosalis leapt from a pile of debris on their right and tackled the heavy Ranger to the ground; Artyom changed his stance and opened fire until it screeched its retreat. The Ranger stumbled to get to his feet and looked okay, but where there was one, there was more. Grigori had already exhausted his reloaded magazine and was backing slowly away from the left edge of the battlefield. Ulman was the farthest one forward, accompanied by a shorter Ranger with a shotgun; they were picking off several targets as they ran in a large group across the road.

"The road is clear, let's go!" Ulman yelled to whoever was capable of following him. Artyom wasted no time in trying to catch up and Grigori with another Ranger was right behind him.

In the whirlwind of weather and adrenaline everyone rushed back towards the Oktyabrskaya station entrance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

A cacophony of howling surrounded them; every man huddled into a circle, facing outwards, weapons at the ready. They stepped slowly, inching their way towards the station and to safety. One Nosalis crawled closer, not ready to attack yet, as if he was taunting them, testing them. Grigori's hands shook violently and Artyom watched his finger slip down onto the trigger. He tried to grab his hand but it was too late, Grigori pulled the trigger back and the curious Nosalis rolled backwards into a ditch. Artyom knew they were in for more trouble now, it seemed as if every last remaining beast rushed forward at that moment and their firing circle did not hold up for long.

Artyom felt the force of a large body jumping on top of him, and he was shocked to find himself looking up at the endless grey sky. He reached for the knife in his boot, drawing it out and stabbing at the being in one swift motion. It shrieked loudly, his visor was splattered with its off-color blood. The weight was lifted and he rolled onto his side, searching on the slippery ground for his rifle. He could see a few pairs of boots nearby, scrambling to defend their own positions.

His matte black AK lay just a few feet to his right and he crawled on his side towards it, trying to get traction on the ice with his feet proved useless. He arched his back up and pulled himself to his knees, lunging forward and taking his rifle up like a child in his arms. He quickly checked the switch and his magazine, everything was in order and he still had about half his rounds left.

Searching for a target was not hard, but they were all moving too fast, the battlefield was covered in blood and grey fur, and peppered with the four remaining Rangers. Artyom hoped Ulman was one of them, and hoped the one that was missing was not Grigori.

A new brand of howl tore across the open sky, signaling a flying demon entering into the action. Artyom gritted his teeth and cursed quietly, hoping that crouching next to the bushes would camouflage him. He heard two of the men yelling short commands at each other, and heard the Ranger with the shotgun fire three times. He swiped his jacket sleeve across his mask to clear his vision, but could not see from his location what was going on now.

More shots were heard nearby, two more shotgun blasts and another burst of automatic fire. He could hear one man yelling, almost as if he were trying to scare the beasts off with a war cry. Next, he could faintly hear another command.

"If you're still alive, then RUN!" He wasn't sure who had called out; the tone of the voice was lost in its volume.

Further explanation was not needed, as the heavy Ranger came barreling towards him, his main weapon was either lost or he had ditched it when he ran out of ammunition. He grabbed Artyom by the collar of his jacket and dragged him from the frozen field and down into a rocky ravine to the left of the path.

Letting his feet catch up with the other man's speed, he was released and continued to follow him, only looking back once and worrying that none of the other men seemed to be following them. He would ask questions only after they had stopped, for now he just wanted to believe that they would catch up, or had found another way through the vicious hoard.

Hearing distant howling, he guessed that they had lost the trail of the mutants, and yet they kept running. This man seemed to know quite well where they were headed, because there seemed to be several different paths through the old streets and he turned down each one precisely. Even when one path was blocked by a crumbled building or pile of rusted car bodies, he knew just how to get around to the other side without climbing over.

After a few more turns the man slowed his pace down to a brisk walk, coughing every few steps. It was only after Artyom stepped up beside the man that he noticed the large crack in the plastic of his gas mask.

"Look kid, I might not make it back, so I have to," more coughing, "I have to tell you where to go from here."

Artyom shook his head nervously, trying to find words to reassure the man that he would be okay. He had filters to spare, but not another mask. His mind raced, wondering where the other Rangers were and what had happened to them where he couldn't see.

"Wh-what about the others?" He squeaked, motioning in the direction they had come from.

"They were… pinned down across from me, but they were very close to the gate." The man stopped walking and doubled over in a fit of coughing. "Listen, keep heading down this road for three blocks, then turn left. There will be the entrance to Novokuznetskaya there."

Artyom nodded solemnly, recognizing the man's difficulty and the actuality that he would not be accompanying him back to the Metro.

"You can go right in, but make yourself known." He held an arm out, looking for stability as he sat down.

It was then Artyom was sure that he would be going alone; tears began to well in his eyes, although he didn't know the man at all. He thought he should offer him something, some kind of comfort or parting words, a thank you even.

"Radio, through Hanza, when you arrive." The man was now wheezing between breaths. "Take this."

For a moment Artyom was expecting a mysterious cartridge message capsule, but instead the man gave him his pistol, a worn Tokarev with a silencer.

"What is your name?" Artyom couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Senya, well, Semyon Antonovich." Senya closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was falling asleep, then growled intensely. "Now go!"

Artyom nodded, stepping back reluctantly. Senya waved his hand at him, urging him to leave and save himself. He turned his back and took a few steps, but then looked over his shoulder again.

"Novo-", he coughed, "kuznet-skaya!" Senya's body relaxed.

Then he ran, avoiding the cracks in the pavement beneath his boots; watching carefully that his path was clear by the eerie light of the moon. There were no clouds now, and the night was black and lifeless. Three blocks, three side-streets away he turned left as he was instructed and there another block down was a sign for the Metro. Its crooked red M almost infuriated Artyom, although it was his home. He had come to resent it after all he had experienced there, but the surface was becoming an equal pain in his side. It seemed there was no end to death and violence no matter where he went.

Tears streamed down his face now as he ran down the steps of the escalator and pounded on the heavy iron door that separated him from the bowels of the city. A red light came on, flashing, and he heard the motor start up. The heavy barricade moved aside and he nearly fell over as he stumbled inside, holding his head in his hands, trying to get a hold of himself before he had to explain the situation.

"Woah there friend, what's going on out there? Must have been some shit!" Spoke a calm masculine voice, he could only guess it was a guard on duty.

"I-I need to send a message. Radio." Artyom stammered, out of breath, trying to regain balance over his emotions.

"Sure, sure, man. Just calm down and we'll get what you need." The strange new face patted him on the shoulder, nudging him to have a seat in a small booth by the door that had slammed shut again.

A good twenty minutes passed as Artyom regained his composure and explained, in short, what had happened to their Ranger squad on the surface. His new friend, calling himself Valya, listened intently as if he'd never had such an adventure before, even though the story ended in tragedy.

"So I need to send them a message, tell them I am okay and what happened; that I will make it back to them soon." Artyom took a deep breath in after expelling that long sentence from his lungs.

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Valya clapped a hand to Artyom's shoulder. "I'll let Sasha know and he'll pass it on okay? But you should get some rest, yeah? You're welcome to stay here of course." He stood up and offered Artyom a hand.

He was lead to a small guest tent between the arches of the main platform. Inside was a sagging cot and an oil lamp. It looked plenty cozy to Artyom, who fell into it immediately, letting his rucksack fall onto the floor beside him. Valya reassured him that all would be taken care of and to get some rest, and that he'd be welcome to share a meal with him when he had gotten some sleep. With no strength left to refuse or to wonder, Artyom was asleep in minutes without another care in the world about what would happen next.

What seemed to him like two days later, Artyom was just beginning to show consciousness. He checked his watch, quarter to eight in the morning. He felt rested, having been too exhausted from the previous day's activities to have had capacity for any dreams and so he was relieved. He felt his stomach rumble, and then immediately began to feel guilty. He thought of Senya, resting peacefully against the shell of an old car. He wondered about Valya, and if his radio message had been sent, and also if he was still welcome to breakfast.

Lifting the tent flap, he took a long stretch and then looked to both sides of the hallway in search of his acquaintance. Finding no sign of anyone on the platform except for a few children playing, he wondered where to go. He seemed to remember coming into the station from the right, and passing nothing last night of much significance, he deduced that the office and common areas had to be on the left.

Pondering for a moment if his rucksack should be left in the tent or not, he quickly decided against it and slung it over his shoulder. He knew he couldn't stay, if the message had gone through he had to follow it. He had to get back to D-6, at least to see if Ulman had made it back, too. Heading down the hallway to the left he reached a man-made enclosure which forced him to turn right into the main vestibule. Here there was a small communal fire with several people gathered here and there talking in groups. He didn't need to search their faces for long.

"Artyom! Over here." Called the now-familiar voice of Valya, and he headed towards the sound. "Come have some sausage and egg. I want you to meet my friends."

Friends? He thought it was a nice notion, but knowing all too well his penchant for getting into trouble he hesitated. They were very close to bandit territory and the front lines shifted every day. Ultimately his stomach drove him on.

"Hello Artyom, it's nice to meet you! I'm Nikolai, and this is my twin brother Dmitri." Spoke a fresh faced young man with shaggy brown hair and long stubble. He gestured to another young man sitting across from him with similar features, but with no beard and hair shaved short.

"Yeah it's some good luck, huh? My friends are visiting from Avtozavodskaya, and they offered to escort you back to the Ring and get you heading home!" Valya beamed and looked back at his friends.

"Well, actually it's more like we need you to escort us." Nikolai put up a hand to interrupt. He looked up at Artyom with an apologetic expression before continuing. "You see we're traders, we've picked up some goods from Venice to take back with us, but there's a problem."

Artyom sat down slowly, quizzically watching Nikolai as he attempted to gesticulate along with his story. He didn't really mind what the story was about or what they needed help with, as long as the plate Valya was filling was for him. It was.

"Well we've usually done a bit better business by this point, so now we have too much, but we have to get these supplies back to our station." Nikolai looked over at his brother for some support but only got an annoyed grunt in reply. "Anyways, I'm worried that just the two of us can't get the whole haul through Hanza without questions - but if we had another guy with us that would be a caravan and they wouldn't mind then."

Artyom nodded intently, it seemed a simple errand to him, and every forkful of fluffy egg convinced him more.

"Avtozavodskaya is only two stops past the Ring, where Valya told us you're going to, it'd be quick if you could help us back to there and then head right back the way you came. We'll pay you of course."

Not particularly interested in pay, Artyom thought for a moment of turning down the offer, but something made his heart skip and he just couldn't refuse. After all, they were going in the same direction; it wouldn't be that long a detour.

"Alright, when do we leave?" He asked hesitantly.

"Whenever you're ready, my friend!" Nikolai was overjoyed. "Is there anything you need before we go? You don't have to take your pay in cartridges either. As I said, we're traders, so is there anything?"

Artyom thought the question was odd, and pondered it for a moment. He had never been in a situation where he could name his own price for hire, he wasn't sure if he truly knew the worth of such services. First, he wondered if their goods were all legitimate – were they perhaps trying to rid themselves of stolen items on a random passerby to avoid suspicion? He decided that they looked rather healthy and put together and didn't seem like a typical bandit or criminal. Next, he wondered what assortment of things they might have on hand, or what he might want. Truthfully he couldn't think of anything, the only things he ever really wanted seemed necessary; food, light, a place to sleep, all basic needs of life. Then, it came to him.

"Books?" Nikolai seemed astounded by the question. "Well yeah, of course we have some, but we haven't traded with them in a while, not many people are interested anymore. When we get back to Avtozavodskaya, you can have whatever you like!"

Although extremely skeptical, something told Artyom that this was a good thing. He did still have his automatic weapon and the silenced pistol that Senya gave him. At the very least, he could defend himself and get back to Hanza if things went badly. He was determined to trust himself more.

After finishing his plateful, he shook hands with Valya and promised to visit when he passed in his direction again. Nikolai nudged Dmitri to get up and he did so begrudgingly. Artyom wasn't quite sure what the story behind these two brothers was, but it both intrigued and uninterested him. It was Dmitri's strange personality that caught him wondering the most. Nikolai had said that they were twins but they seemed like two totally different people, well, they were. It's just that they were nothing alike.

He watched them gather their effects and gauged their actions as he followed them to where they had been staying in a similar tent to his. Dmitri was usually silent, and would grunt or moan before resorting to short sentences. He seemed constantly aggravated and pessimistic; perhaps he was holding a grudge? Nikolai on the other hand was usually smiling, saying hello to people, and trying to start and continue conversations even when the other person wasn't interested.

"Alright, can you manage your bag and this, too?" Nikolai pulled a large rucksack out from their tent and dragged it over to Artyom.

"I'll have to." Artyom said flatly, choosing to pull the straps of his smaller pack through the straps of the larger so that they were linked together. Then he heaved the set onto his shoulders. It wasn't entirely as heavy as he'd expected – just bulky and cumbersome.

"Any other business before we head out? Got your passport ready?" Nikolai asked with a smile, but also looked over at Dmitri to confirm.

"I'm ready." Artyom replied, patting the breast pocket of his vest for his passport.

Dmitri remained silent, hauling his own pack onto his back, and then took the lead into the southern tunnel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

As predicted, they had no trouble getting through the Ring territory and out onto the other side. Artyom began to wonder if the strange brothers truly had need of him or if this had all been a futile endeavor. More likely, they were just overcompensating to make sure there was no difficulty. He couldn't blame them for wanting protection. In some ways Nikolai seemed gullible and overly friendly and Dmitri didn't seem to be much help because he barely talked and didn't seem to contribute much to any other aspect of their purpose. He heaved a sigh as he readjusted the weight of the backpack on his shoulders, hoping they would reach their destination soon.

"We're just coming up to Paveletskaya now." Nikolai called back to Artyom.

Dmitri was still in the lead, and was still saying nothing. He looked to be in good shape, because his rucksack didn't seem to effect or hinder him in any way. Perhaps there was more to him than what met Artyom's eye.

"I remember this place." Artyom said with disgust under his breath, but Nikolai still heard him.

"You've been here before? Yeah, it's a bit of a despicable place. They've been able to put up some concrete now, but the radiation has already done its damage. We'll be quick passing through anyway." Nikolai flashed him a smile.

"Fuckin' lepers." Dmitri muttered.

It was the first time he'd said a word since the Hanza border checkpoint half an hour ago. One of the customs guards questioned what he needed four knives for in his line of work. Dmitri had replied unconvincingly that he had run out of space in his other bag but refused to speak further after that. Nikolai had stepped in to diffuse the situation anyway, as he was prone to doing.

"What choice did they have, brother? Hanza was very tight security, especially in the beginning, and our station was a holdover for a long time before it was abandoned. So for the people at Paveletskaya it was life or death, even if life meant disease." Nikolai said quite diplomatically.

"Holdover?" Artyom raised an eyebrow in questioning.

"Yeah, sort of like, the people who were there at the start didn't really belong anywhere. There were all the factions forming up, the Reds and Nazis just getting started. Only the people at Avtozavodskaya believed for a long time that they were going to be rescued, so they didn't really prepare themselves. They just waited, and waited, and nobody came, you know. So they just died out, one by one, some of them left and went here and there but pretty soon it was empty and nobody was there anymore." Nikolai talked as if he might have been there at that time but Artyom knew he would have been quite young and probably wouldn't remember such things.

It was a very sad thought for Artyom, who also had no memory of when his underground life began. He had very faint images of his mother, her outfit, and a park with trees, but couldn't recall all the mundane days that passed so slowly when he was growing up in the tunnels. To think that people were and even still are consciously choosing not to accept reality, to believe that at any moment they might be saved and return to their former lives in the city as if it was still whole, and shining, and clean. It was a bittersweet dream.

"So, what's at Avtozavodskaya now?" Artyom inquired as they were reaching the first platform of Paveletskaya.

"Well, even though it was abandoned for a long time, people have built a home there again. It's a place for some of us who don't fit in anywhere else, with nowhere else to go." Nikolai's smile was more solemn this time, and Artyom was sure that he was speaking from experience.

There wasn't anyone on duty here at Paveletskaya as Artyom had witnessed last time he had come through this station. The dark chasm on the far platform was walled in with concrete just as Nikolai had said. Where previously the iron door was missing from this station's exit, and one could see the sky from the right angle, there was now a solid grey partition with a small lamp hanging from a pipe in the ceiling. The name of the station was crudely, but proudly, painted onto this wall in black block letters.

No checkpoints meant no stops and they only said hello to a few ragged people in passing, never ceasing their steps. People stared at them in wonderment, perhaps hoping they carried a cure for their ailments. Artyom did his very best not to look back at anyone, to focus his vision solely on Dmitri's boots and the crossties. Nikolai had taken up the rear position and he could hear his steps close behind him. They never left the tracks, continuing straight on into the next tunnel.

Artyom took this next stretch of silence to listen to his surroundings. Since he'd never come this way before, he thought it would be interesting to see what this line had to say, what stories might linger in the pipes. He thought he could hear a few whispers, but it could have just been the swish of cloth as they moved. Focusing on the noise, he could hear the whisper grow louder, was the next station really so close?

"We're almost there." Nikolai said quietly from behind him. He had crept up very close to Artyom, was he afraid of something?

He could see a faint light coming from the right side of the tunnel and assumed it at first to be the station ahead. Drawing closer he realized that it was a door leading to a side passage a few yards from the main platform. Next, he noticed that Dmitri had stopped walking and had turned to face him.

"Stop here." He said in a low voice.

"This is where we keep all of our supplies. Let's go inside, all the books are in here, too. You can take whatever you like!" Nikolai smiled and motioned to the side door, leading the way.

Taking his first step hesitantly, he followed Nikolai into the doorway. It was a short hallway that led into a larger room. There was a single real light bulb hanging from the ceiling, a small stove was in the back corner with a fire glowing red inside. There were two tables and several chairs scattered around, some crates were in the corners as well. Artyom didn't see any books. He began to protest, but Nikolai was walking away from him.

As Nikolai stepped aside, Artyom was faced by someone new. Before him stood a woman, her arms crossed, with red brown hair and grey eyes staring up at him. She was dressed in grey fatigues and had a tan armored vest that was laced up the front in two places. He noticed the pistol at her hip that was similar to his, the leather accents to her armor, shoulder pads with a red spade painted on, and a red bandana around her neck. It was certainly a surprising sight. Artyom was stunned by her presence and froze on the spot. He was ashamed to admit that he hadn't known many women, and definitely hadn't known any who were soldiers.

"Dmitri, check him." She ordered, giving Artyom the same looking over that she had just received.

Artyom's weapon was taken from his holster before he could even think; Dmitri slid it across the table towards Nikolai and out of his reach. He then removed both rucksacks from Artyom's shoulders and set them aside as well. Stepping backwards, he blocked the exit.

"You have my word that you will not be harmed. I only have a few questions for you, and if you can answer them, then you may go." She narrowed her eyes slightly.

"What questions?" Artyom asked slowly, not wanting to provoke any hostility. He wondered what the punishment might be if he couldn't answer her questions. Would they hold him hostage? Put him to work in their station? The air was thick with anticipation. His heart beat so loudly in his chest that he almost didn't hear her reply.

"I want to know the whereabouts of a mutual friend. He is a Ranger, like yourself." Her expression changed to something like concern.

"Who are you?" Artyom leaned forward slightly, looking from the woman over to Nikolai, wondering what their connection or relationship was. His question was aimed as much at her alone as it was aimed at her group.

"My name is Aleksandrya Dmitriyev, and we are Roten Spaten." She straightened her shoulders before she continued. "I suppose you might understand it better as Krasnaya Strelka; named after the Red Arrow train that connected this city with Saint Petersburg."

"Red Arrow. Right." Artyom honestly had no idea about the train line to St Petersburg.

"So, Artyom, can you help me?" She took a step forward and he looked into her eyes, they were serious but apprehensive.

Then he noticed something shiny around her neck, among the straps and strings on her outfit, there hung a brass cartridge - just like the one that Hunter had given him before he disappeared.

"That capsule." He breathed the words, his eyes wide, fearful and disbelieving.

"I am looking for a man who calls himself The Hunter. Do you know him?"

Artyom was in shock, tears welling in his eyes. His mouth hung open, quivering, and he had no idea what to say. First of all, not even he was sure what had actually happened to Hunter. What was he supposed to tell her? That he had died? It had been all this time and nobody had heard from him, but there was still a big part of Artyom that wanted Hunter to return. At the very least, he didn't want to risk upsetting this woman, Aleksandrya, while in her territory. There was no telling how she might react. How in hell had she even known him?

"You know him don't you? You know Hunter." She pressed after his moment of stunned silence; his reaction had given him away.

"I know him, but I don't know where he is." He stated simply, not sure how else to explain it.

Aleksandrya took a few ragged breaths, pacing in circles for a few moments, Nikolai tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away.

"It's okay, look, just because he doesn't know doesn't mean-" Nikolai began.

"Shut up!" Aleksandrya put up a hand to silence her comrade and then turned back to Artyom. "How, no, fuck how. When. When did you last see him?"

"I-I, uh." Artyom stammered, he wanted to ask her the same questions. He blinked a few times, confused and tense. He was never entirely certain how long it had taken him to get to Polis from VDNKh. Sometimes it seemed like it was only yesterday, and at other times it felt like years had passed since he had set out on his first journey into the Metro.

"Fucking when?!" She yelled, stepping right up in front of him, taking his collar into her fists. Her eyes pleaded, her expression was fierce.

"A month, maybe more. I don't know!" Artyom leaned back, trying to escape her grip, his hands in the air.

"You don't know…" She drew back, releasing his jacket and turned to face the wall. Taking a moment to compose herself, she heaved a deep sigh and then spoke calmly. "Where did he go?"

"He left on a mission, and nobody has seen him since then. Nobody has heard anything." Artyom said quietly, hoping his own emotions would be felt through his words. He hoped that she could feel his empathy; it seemed to him that they both felt the same way about the situation and the man in question.

"Where?" She said with more emphasis.

"He was going to Botanichesky Sad to seal the northern door on the Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya Line." Artyom wasn't sure how his answer would help.

"The fucking Dark Ones." Nikolai almost growled, walking over to Aleksandrya who had yet to turn around. "The fucking Dark Ones got him."

"Is that true, Artyom?" Aleksandrya seemed to understand exactly what the situation had been. Just how far did the tale of Artyom's journey travel? Did everyone know about the threat of the Dark Ones?

"Yes." He said solemnly, but took a step towards her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but Nikolai's stare stopped him short. "But I don't think they killed him."

Aleksandrya took another deep breath; Nikolai looked back and forth between her and Artyom. The silence was unbearable. Artyom feared her next reaction; would she lash out with rage? No, she seemed to be much more disturbed than angry and had become much more somber. The air had gone from thick with tension to heavy with sorrow. The weight that he had been carrying in his heart, that burden that likely she had shared with him, was now surrounding them, pressing down on them from above.

"Okay. Nikolai, show him into the station." Finally she turned around; avoiding looking into his eyes. "You'll stay here for the night while we prepare, in the morning I'll escort you back to Polis. They already know you are coming."

"Valya." Artyom said knowingly. The friendly sentry at Novokuznetskaya, he must have been a part of Roten Spaten, just waiting for someone like Artyom to come along and then be dragged down to Avtozavodskaya to be questioned.

"Dmitri, gather the others here. There's something else we need to discuss before the night is over." Aleksandrya walked further into the room, taking Artyom's pistol she looked it over before putting it on a crate against the wall next to his rucksack. "You can have these back once we get to Hanza."

"Just one question, first." Artyom dared, shaking Nikolai's hands from his arm and taking a step forward.

Aleksandrya looked back at him, surprised but with a look of curiosity, allowing him to speak.

"Why is this so important to you? How did you know Hunter?" Artyom's eyes burned, his head spun with confusion. Although he knew that Hunter had travelled far and wide, he never thought that anyone else would be looking for him. He never assumed Hunter to have many friends who would care this much about him. The Spartan Order had given up all hope of hearing from him, so why was she still in pursuit?

"That's two questions, neither of which you would truly understand if I were to explain." She put both hands on the table that stood between them, straightening her arms and hanging her head. "Hunter was like a… well, we were close. He taught me many things. Now please, go get some rest."

Artyom took a step back, allowing Nikolai to guide him out of the room. He didn't feel at all like resting, but it seemed he had no choice. Dmitri stepped out of the room and disappeared into the station before Nikolai led him up the stairs to the main platform.

"So, all of this was just a set up?" Artyom mused to himself, not really expecting Nikolai to answer.

"Sorry. We had to be careful, and we had to be sure."Nikolai showed Artyom around the main hall, where he could get a meal, and then to a small tent similar to the one he stayed in at Novokuznetskaya. "Aleks probably won't ever tell you, but your information meant a lot to her. So, I'll thank you for her. Hunter was very important, and she has been worrying about him for weeks. At the very least, you have given her some closure."

"I still think it's possible that he's alive somewhere." Artyom insisted, hoping that saying it out loud would somehow make it true.

"Yeah but all this time? And nobody has heard a word from him? Nobody has seen him anywhere? That guy was no joke. He was a warrior; no simple Watchman or Demon could take him down, it had to be a bad situation." Nikolai attempted to convey how hopeless the idea was.

"How does she know him, anyway?" Artyom thought it was worth a try. If Nikolai was willing to be thankful in her stead, perhaps he could get an answer from him on her behalf as well.

"Give her a while, she'll calm down. Then you can ask her again yourself." Nikolai smiled his usual warm smile and that went a long way to comfort Artyom. Perhaps this wasn't a group of crazy outcasts trying to become bandits or start a faction. They were just the same as he was, human, and looking for answers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

Artyom sat at the edge of his tent, leaning his back against the wall, the flap was open and he watched the activity of every passerby. He remained dazed by the events that had just taken place, by the character of the people he had been taken in by. Their predicament was peculiar, and the way they had gone about looking for answers was extremely clever. It proved, at least to him, that they didn't have any ulterior motives. He was agreeably surprised, or rather relieved, to learn that he was not the only one who had been mentored by Hunter; to know that someone else shared the pain of his disappearance.

He still wondered deeply how Aleksandrya had come to know Hunter. When and where had they met? What experience had they shared or what Hunter had taken an interest in with her. Obviously the fact that she was intelligent and resolute was a fine basis for any faction soldier, or even an officer. In fact she technically was one; she declared herself the leader of Roten Spaten and none of her male counterparts seemed to question or disparage her. Everything they did was for her support or was in line with an order she had given them. She was a brilliant mastermind, watching her orchestrations go along like a graceful melody.

Artyom was basically a nobody when Hunter had come to meet him. Yet somehow he knew to trust him with such an outrageous task for someone who had never left their home station before. Uncertain was a severe understatement for what Artyom had been at the time, he had barely even used a rifle before and knew nothing of the types of despicable people who controlled key areas that he had to travel though. It seemed so impossible at the time, and yet here he was, still breathing, on the other side of the finish line.

Either Aleksandrya was just as ordinary as he was, or Hunter could read minds and see into the future. Perhaps it was both. Though reluctant and terrified, Artyom carried out his mission dutifully, even though it had actually lead him in a whirlwind across half of the Metro and always on the wrong side of the barricade. He had now visited many stations, and all of them were different.

The people here were quiet, and went about their business at a leisurely pace. There was one communal fire on the tracks of the far tunnel just off the platform; several civilians were gathered around it having a pot of tea and a laugh. There were many decidedly non-Russian people here, and Artyom remembered fondly the squad of Revolutionists that he had met near here. Their squad consisted of two men of mostly Russian heritage, but also an Asian man and an African man. It was the same here, most people were of some local European culture, but also he could recognize a few Americans, Germans, and some Spaniards as well. There was at least one person of every heritage that he could see from where he was sitting.

"So this is what Nikolai meant when he said these people had nowhere else to go." Artyom spoke quietly to himself. With all the increasing standards for genetics in the Reich territory, and with Polis and Hanza being so wary of outsiders wanting to immigrate, there truly weren't many places for simple people just wanting to lead a life of peace. Although this station was small and dark, it was beautiful.

Artyom had never really considered the question of racial purity. A small part of him supposed that the complete loss of Russian culture would be disheartening, but he never understood why racial background really mattered. None of it really mattered now anyway, there was no Russia anymore.

On that sour note, Artyom decided he had done enough sitting and thinking, and stood up. Letting out a long breath he walked down the main platform for a ways, just listening to random conversation and the laughter of some children. He wondered if he would have children someday, if he would live for a long enough time to care for them, or whether it was worth it at all to risk having a child that was sickly and condemned to live in this underground cesspool forever.

Too much thinking, he had to immerse himself somehow. He tried his luck sitting in the small kitchen area, hoping to integrate himself into another person's conversation, but the few people who were sitting down to eat remained aloof to his presence. Next, he walked to the fire; there was always a good conversation to be had when sitting around the community fire, even with people you didn't know. This time he ventured an introduction.

"Hello, may I sit with you?" He asked timidly, adding in a weak smile.

"Of course my friend, pull up a crate. The tea is a bit cold now, but you're welcome to a cup if you can tell us a good story!" A man with a short beard spoke with a gentle but deep voice. He was impressively built, with blonde hair, and wore a long brown jacket.

"A good story…" Artyom mused for a moment. He had no shortage of stories, but wouldn't particularly call any of them good. He also didn't want to reveal his origins or give up any sensitive information.

"Come on, you're a Spartan Ranger, you must have something interesting to tell us!" This voice belonged to a woman; she was middle aged, with long black hair and very tan skin.

His uniform gave away that he did not belong here but the people didn't seem to mind. Instead they seemed to welcome him, their faces full of wonder at what he might tell them.

"Well, there was one time; I was on a watch with Pyotr Andreevich at the border of my station. Beyond us is darkness and there is a strange noise from the tunnel. We had a few guys disappear the last week so everyone was on edge." Artyom looked around to see the horrified expressions on the faces of the people who had gathered. He knew he had to continue quickly or risk alienating everyone from talking to him again. "Well, I took my rifle and walked a few paces into the tunnel, Andrey was shining his flashlight but it was so dark. I called out 'Stop. Password!' only there was no reply."

"Was it a Dark One?" Someone in the small crowd said with a quiver in their voice; another person gasped and Artyom forced another smile to prevent a panic. He was becoming more and more accustomed to hearing strangers talking about the Dark Ones. It seems everyone in every corner of the Metro had heard the tale by now. In that aspect, the Metro didn't seem so large and divided.

"We went back to our tea and the fire, until we head the noise again, it was like a scratching and moaning. This time Andrey went into the tunnel. We heard him scuffle a bit and then he fired some rounds. Then there was yelling so Pyotr shined the flashlight on him and as he's walking back we can see in his arms there was a puppy, no bigger than an infant." Artyom held up his hands for size reference.

"All that over a dog!" The blonde man exclaimed with a large grin on his face, holding out a chipped mug to Artyom. "Here my friend, you've earned it."

"Did he keep it?" Asked a frail woman who had earlier been gripping at her cloak in terror.

"Yeah, he took it home with him and cared for it." Artyom relaxed and sipped the cold tea, having broken the ice successfully; he savored its mild flavor as his reward.

There was more conversation and someone told a story about visiting to the Theatre station before becoming a refugee here. Artyom had heard a lot about it and had dreamed of going one day and he listened with intent to everyone else's stories the way they had listened so well to his.

"So, are you just visiting from Polis, or are you here to stay?" The blonde man leaned forward with his arms on his knees.

"Just visiting." Artyom pondered how to explain himself. "I had a message to deliver to Aleksandrya Dmitriyev. I'll be heading back in the morning."

"Oh, that poor girl, she works so hard to keep us all safe." Spoke the dark-haired woman.

"You're not all part of Roten Spaten?" Artyom cocked his head to the side, his brows knit in question.

"No." The blonde man said with surprise. "Aleks and her people protect us. She makes sure we have anything we need, and she handles all the trading."

"We make soap here and she sends it to be traded in return for food and medicine." The frail woman said with a smile. "Heaven knows where she gets the strength. It can be hard sometimes, but we lead simple lives and we don't need much."

Artyom looked back towards the tunnel he had come from; at the soft glow of the light from inside that room he had stood in when he met her. He felt somewhat sympathetic, having no idea that she basically held the role of station supervisor.

"How exactly does that work, then? What about when they leave to do trading?" Artyom asked, hoping his question wouldn't be seen as too prying.

"Well you probably know about Paveletskaya, people hardly go through there, and on the other side of us is a dead end. Nobody bothers us because nobody really knows we are here. Even if Aleks and her men leave, they always leave someone to help us."

"I see." Artyom remained quiet after that.

The others chatted on for a bit, speculating about the next trade exchange and their soap production. It sounded like a very similar operation to the tea factory at VDNKh. He wondered where the workers from his station had gone, and if they had managed to set up shop elsewhere. Exhibition tea hadn't become any more expensive that he noticed, so they must have been able to resume their manufacture. What he wouldn't trade to work a simple shift at the tea factory with Zhenya, chatting about what life was like in just the next station over, let alone the opposite end of the line.

"Well, it's getting to be late. Good luck on your journey tomorrow." The blonde man clapped Artyom on the shoulder, the other hand held the kettle and he offered him one last cup.

"It was nice to have met you!" said the tan woman as she rose from her seat.

"Thank you, I enjoyed talking with you all." Artyom refused the cup but expressed his gratitude.

Everyone around the fire wandered off to their respective tents and Artyom looked around the station, it seems everyone had decided to go to bed at the same time as there was nobody near the kitchen and even all the children had gone home from playing on the floor.

He stood up and walked back to his tent, taking in the statements he had just heard from the residents of Avtozavodskaya. He had no idea that they made soap, and only now was he becoming curious; he should have asked more about it while he had the chance. Perhaps he would ask Nikolai about it in the morning. He dared to think of Nikolai as a friend for a moment before remembering that he didn't really know him. Although his demeanor hadn't changed much after going into that room, he definitely hadn't introduced himself as a Revolutionist mercenary either.

Artyom looked again to the glow of the supply room, wondering if anyone was still there at this hour. Of course there probably was someone on watch at all hours somewhere, but he remembered what the woman had said about being unknown, so they couldn't be anticipating anyone coming down the tunnel that they didn't invite. This station seemed eerily absent of mutants or rats, although initially Artyom had been comforted by the relative cleanliness he also recalled what Bourbon had said long ago about the absence of even rats from an area. It was usually a sign that something more sinister was there.

Lost in his thoughts, he found himself walking over to the supply room. Stopping himself at the top of the metal stairway that led down beside the tracks he felt his body tense. He remained as still and silent as he could possibly manage, hoping to hear a voice or a sign that someone was inside the room. There seemed to be no sign of the two brothers or Aleks, and yet the light was still on. He stirred himself, willing his feet to descend the steps slowly, quietly.

Creeping up towards the doorway he pressed himself against the concrete wall and listened again. There was no talking, no footsteps or shuffling, but there was a faint sound echoing back at him. It sounded like someone was crying, it didn't take him long to figure out who.

He took a deep breath and looked back at the station, wanting to make himself turn back, but he couldn't make his feet turn around. He couldn't ignore the fact that she had been upset by the news that he had brought to her, and he was still uncertain of her exact involvement with Hunter. But he felt responsible, too responsible to turn away. It didn't seem like anyone was with her inside, so perhaps this was his chance to find out what he wanted to know when she wasn't pressured to stay strong in front of her comrades.

Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, he set his foot inside the doorway. Slowly inching forward, he stopped again before the opening to the room. He looked to the left, where the room was shallow, and saw nothing, so he very carefully leaned inside and looked to the right. There she sat facing the back wall, her head in her hands, her long bangs covering her face. She sobbed softly, covering her mouth to muffle the sound of her sharp breathing.

Stepping fully into the room he knew he needed to make himself known somehow, but quietly, so as not to startle her or change her sorrow to anger for his intrusion. He made his next step more forceful, making sure the heel of his boot hit the concrete hard enough to make a noise.

Aleksandrya gasped and looked up at him with such fear and guilt that Artyom had to look away. She immediately started wiping her face with her sleeve, straightening her hair with the other hand.

"I'm sorry." Artyom squeaked.

"No, no. This has nothing to do with-" She stopped herself short, attempting to get a hold of herself.

There was a long moment of silence, during which Artyom was sure she would turn spiteful and tell him to leave the room. Yet, she remained seated and staring at the floor.

"Would you like to sit?" She gestured to a chair near the wall across from her.

Artyom said nothing, but hesitantly went to sit down. He silently cursed himself for not turning around when he had the chance. It was hard for him to admit that he was more apprehensive of this woman's emotions than any battle he had ever faced; knowing for sure that her reactions were somehow his fault. He looked her over for a moment; she had discarded some of her armor pieces and simply wore her grey fatigues, vest, and boots. Aside from the color and fit of their uniforms, they looked rather the same. She began to look up at him and he turned his gaze to the side, hoping she hadn't noticed him staring.

"What station are you from, Artyom?" She spoke quietly, watching his face and probably searching for eye contact. After a minute had passed and he hadn't answered her, she spoke again. "I used to live at Tverskaya."

"You lived in Reich?" Artyom was surprised, and looked back at her without even remembering that he had been trying to avoid her gaze. Her face was gentle and pale pink, irritated from her tears, but it made her look so strikingly beautiful. There was nothing more honest than staring into her eyes in this moment.

"I lived there with my mother, we were in Chekhovskaya at first but then after a few years they made that mostly for military, so Tverskaya was for families." Aleks pressed her hands between her knees, seeming somewhat uncomfortable, but bit her lip and then attempted to smile. "Was."

"What happened there?" Artyom ventured, genuinely curious. Not particularly in her story, but more about Reich as a whole.

"You tell me first." Her expression flattened. He had almost forgotten that she had started this conversation with a question.

"I'm from Exhibition."Artyom paused, not knowing if she would have known where or what that was. "Where they make the good tea."

"You are a long way from home, then."

"No one is there anymore, I don't think." His shoulders fell slack in synch with the sinking in his heart at the thought.

"Because of your Dark Ones." She had probably meant it as a question, but her tone gave the impression that she knew something about it. Whether she had meant to blame him or just to speak of known facts was unclear to him.

"All of it is my fault." Artyom whispered, barely audible. Here he had come to investigate the sound of her sorrow and he was beginning to wallow in his own.

Aleks looked up at him somewhat with pity and somewhat with disbelief, her hand lifted as if to get his attention but then it fell back to her lap. She was biting at her lip again, attempting to decide whether to console him or to continue the conversation. Letting out another breath, she straightened in her chair and looked directly at him.

"What you don't know, what hardly anybody knows, is that the Fuhrer is strict about mutations because he was one of the first to experience it." Apparently she had decided to continue the other part of her story. "His wife was pregnant when this madness began, and she gave birth to a mutant. From then on he has been increasingly paranoid, even perfectly normal people are abominations in his eyes. Even tiny children who don't know anything… and then the parents get blamed too."

Artyom watched her eyes as she talked, even though she wasn't looking at him now. There was a resentful longing in the steel blue color, tears gathered and then waned without falling. She had shed enough of them in memory of her past, having to relive it so many times. Who knows what she had witnessed in her years, she seemed to be about the same age as him, and he had seen more than enough of pain and death to last a lifetime.

"He left the child to die and then locked his hysterical wife away, blaming her for some other crime! He was so terrified that it had come from his genes and he was in such denial." Aleks shook her head and closed her eyes in shame for her former station's leader.

As she shook her head and placed it in her hands, her brass pendant came loose from her vest and swung on its black string.

"The cartridge." Artyom pointed his finger at it. "Did Hunter give that to you?"

Aleks locked eyes with him and they expressed distrust. Tucking the necklace back into her shirt, she very slowly nodded her head as an affirmative.

"How did you meet him?" Artyom asked forcefully, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. He convinced himself to smooth his expression, trying to convey to her that he wasn't going to hurt her or make any moves so that she would answer him.

"Hunter," she said his name warmly, as if he was standing next to her with his hand on her shoulder. "Hunter met me."

Artyom readjusted himself in his chair, leaning his head onto his arm propped on the adjacent table with intent to listen to every word she said about him as if it were the words of the gods.

"Ivanovich sent the message through, so I'll take the next watch—" Nikolai began to report as he stepped into the room. The look of shock on his face subsided quickly into what looked like annoyance or disgust. Artyom hoped it wasn't all directed towards him. "What's going on?"

"I was asking Artyom about the situation at Hanza. He would know the route to Polis better than us." Aleks sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other; she looked very authoritative, probably putting that mental armor back on for Nikolai.

"Right, and?" Nikolai pressed, walking over to the two and standing almost between them.

"It's business as usual there, nothing serious lately." Artyom attempted to seem casual and knowledgeable, leaning back in his chair in the same fashion as Aleks did.

"Good, so we'll try our luck getting in at Paveletskaya and go from there." Aleks stood up abruptly and took a side-step around Nikolai. "You should get some rest, Artyom. We'll wake you when we are forming up."

Artyom nodded and rose to his feet, gazing back at her knowing smile he felt compelled to smile back. He cautiously followed her subtle cues to be smooth around Nikolai who was staring at him quite sternly. Nodding his head at her suggestion he mumbled a quick 'Goodnight' and left the room quickly. Heading back to his tent for the night he continued to smile to himself. It was comforting to have spoken with Aleksandrya at leisure, and not under the pressure of an official interrogation. Knowing that she was just as human and vulnerable as any other person was humbling, and he slept that night with no trepidation.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

"Wake up Ranger. We're heading out." A deep gravelly voice penetrated his dreamless sleep.

Artyom blinked his sleepy eyes open, squinting at the light of the lantern the speaker was holding. He was an impressively large man, with a shaved head and grey stubble. He wore a reinforced version of the gray fatigues and leather armor that the rest of Roten Spaten was dressed in.

"Who-?" Artyom began, but the man seemed to understand what he was about to ask.

"Ivanovich. Put these on." The man brandished a set of grey clothes like his own. "Bring yours to the office."

Artyom caught the clothes as they landed at his feet, and Ivanovich disappeared before he could say another word. Closing the tent flap, Artyom quickly undressed and slipped on the new fatigues. They were well worn, but clean, and smelled like they had been freshly laundered. He wondered if he should put his own vest back on, but running his fingers over the painted Spartan name, he decided against it.

Bundling up his urban camouflage and vest together, he pulled his boots on and smoothed out the blanket over the cot for the next guest. He gathered his effects and left the tent, heading for the supply room that Ivanovich had called the office. Assuming that Aleks would issue him armor if he required it, he stopped himself from worrying about not having his own uniform on.

As he approached the doorway to the supply room he could hear several voices inside preparing themselves for the journey. Artyom considered knocking or speaking, but there was such a commotion that he thought it best to just enter the corner of the room silently and wait to be noticed.

"Because, if anybody sees all of us surrounding a Spartan they will assume that either we are holding him hostage or—" Aleks was ranting, tying up the strings of her armored corset and adjusting her shoulder plates.

"Or that we're protecting him while he does something worse." Nikolai finished for her, shooting an annoyed look over to Dmitri who had probably just asked the same question that Artyom had been thinking of.

Now fully understanding why they gave him the grey uniform, he took a step forward to where Ivanovich was standing against the wall with a green vest in his hands.

"Oh good, you're awake!" Nikolai said with the same enthusiasm he had in his voice at Novokuznetskaya. "Here, put your things in here."

Nikolai brought Artyom's own rucksack over to one of the tables and pushed it towards him. Artyom immediately put his Ranger uniform away and turned to Ivanovich who was holding out the vest to him.

"Guten morgen." Aleks said to Artyom in German, showing him a weak smile.

There was no trace of the melancholic memories that she had displayed the previous evening, and Artyom was somewhat glad that she seemed to be feeling better but at the same time knew that it meant she would probably resume her hardened and stoic attitude.

"Is everyone ready?" Aleks stood tall in the middle of the room, looking to the four men around her for their replies as she adjusted her rucksack on her back.

"Let's go." Dmitri answered first, to Artyom's surprise.

Ivanovich and Nikolai nodded their response and Artyom led the way out the door and onto the tracks. Dmitri then headed the group, which Artyom had been expecting of him, and Nikolai followed his brother closely. Aleks remained behind with Ivanovich at her side and Artyom was beginning to think more about how it would look if he were still wearing his blue camouflage uniform, a prisoner, and he began to feel like one.

There was no further talk or instruction and Artyom began to wonder how Roten Spaten as a group displayed themselves to outsiders. He much preferred Nikolai's persona of the friendly trader, even if Dmitri didn't sell his attitude as well as his brother. At the very least, he hoped there would be some kind of conversation soon, or it was going to be a very long trip. He tried to remember how long it felt like to travel through Hanza from Belorusskaya to Oktyabrskaya with Ulman, but then all he could think about was losing his partner at the church. Artyom sincerely hoped that Ulman had made it back into Oktyabrskaya alive and unharmed and he did his best to turn his worry into drive to keep walking.

As before, they came up to Paveletskaya without stopping, only this time the residents didn't seem interested in seeing who was coming through. Most of them fled from the platform edge and disappeared into the darkness. Roten Spaten had most likely scared them somehow, at least from moving down into their station, but even if they didn't, who wouldn't be scared by their appearance? Artyom noticed how carefully they had worked to make themselves look like a regular bandit clan like those at Venice or Kitai-Gorod. They bore the same spade symbol, only in a different color, red, which had become their calling card.

He watched Nikolai and Dmitri marching ahead, both brothers wore more armor and pockets now that they could be themselves, when before all they wore was their grey clothes and large packs. Glancing back at Aleks and Ivanovich he also noted the improvisions that they had made with their outfits respectively. Ivanovich was attempting to be more of a heavy soldier than the others, with a very thick olive drab body vest with extensions over his shoulders and several attached pouches for extra ammunition or other supplies.

Aleks was already specialized in her own right, being female for one meant that she couldn't wear the same bulky square armor that he had seen on every kind of soldier from Prospekt Mira to Park Kultury. She must have made most of her clothing herself, because it fit her body perfectly. One could still tell she had a fine form even beneath layers of fabric and leather. She had even crafted a heavy brown cloak to conceal immediate recognition of her gender, which she was just now pulling over her shoulders.

"Hanza isn't much further." Aleks said when she noticed Artyom looking back at her. "We have to cross over and then go down through a side-passage. It's closed off from Paveletskaya on this side."

"You all have passports?" Artyom inquired, letting himself fall back a few steps.

"They aren't visas, but it shouldn't be a problem."

Ivanovich stepped past them, beyond both Dmitri and Nikolai, and posted up against a doorway on the right side a few yards ahead of the group. Artyom guessed it to be the side passage that led to the lower track of the Koltsevaya Ring line. He would have liked to talk more but Aleks had quickened her step to reach the others and left him several paces behind. The four members of Roten Spaten flanked the doorway and waited for him to catch up.

Here, Dmitri stepped through the door first and nearly leapt down the coiling stairway to the bottom. Aleks followed with Ivanovich and Nikolai put a strong hand to Artyom's back, almost pushing him forward into the passage. Several meters they spiraled down the concrete shaft until all had reached the bottom and come out on the tracks below.

Looking to the left, Artyom could see the bright spotlights that marked the Hanza border, to the right there was a long tunnel that curved left and downwards. He knew that was the way to Novokuznetskaya because he had already come through this way with Nikolai and Dmitri the first time. Interestingly, he hadn't noticed the door that they had just come through, but committed it to memory for future travels.

Aleks gave a nod to Dmitri and Ivanovich, who walked off towards the checkpoint without a word. The remaining three of them waited for a minute before heading in the same direction.

"Papers, please!" Someone yelled from between the two searchlights.

Artyom noticed a short line of people ahead of them, but didn't see Dmitri or Ivanovich amongst them. He cast a confused look over at Aleks, who did nothing but take her passport from her pants pocket and motion for him to do the same. Nikolai kept right behind them, and Artyom couldn't tell if he was being paranoid or if he always protected Aleks so closely outside of their home station.

Dmitri suddenly reappeared as if he had shifted though the wall. Artyom caught a glimpse of his concerned expression before he pulled Aleks aside and turned his back to them.

"We can't go through this way, boss." Dmitri's voice was hushed.

Nikolai and Ivanovich closed in next to Artyom, and he got the unsettling and nauseous feeling that something bad was about to happen. Aleks craned her head over Dmitri's shoulder, first glancing at Artyom and then trying to see to the head of the line.

"Sturmann is inside with a patrol." Dmitri clenched his fists and sneered.

"Fuck, alright." Aleks tapped her fingers on her passport, breathing through clenched teeth, and Artyom could almost see the gears turning inside her head, trying to come up with an alternative plan. "Alright."

She turned on her heel, heading down the tunnel away from the lights, each man following her without hesitation or question. After a few steps she broke into a run and the company all kept pace.

"Who's Sturmann?" Artyom panted, following just behind Ivanovich, with the brothers bringing up the rear.

"You ask too many questions." Ivanovich grunted with a scowl.

"He's a Nazi spy; they send him after defectors and refugees. There's no tolerance for any citizen who leaves the Reich." Nikolai informed him with an expressionless face.

"So they've been, what, searching for Aleksandrya since she left Tverskaya?" Artyom fell back a step to continue the conversation with Nikolai.

"She escaped Tverskaya." Dmitri said in a growl, his expression was one of anger and determination.

Artyom's eyes went wide, searching for Aleks who was way ahead of the pack. He had no suspicions that she was a refugee being hunted down by the Nazis like a criminal. She kept running, all the way into Novokuznetskaya where she slowed just before coming into view of its citizens so as not to cause a panic.

Resting against the edge of the platform she stood catching her breath, pushing her hair back into place. Artyom caught up to her with the others and only watched for her actions, thinking it best not to ask any questions in this moment. Her breathing was returning to normal and she looked at each of her soldiers but avoided Artyom's curious eyes.

"Looks like we are going to have to go the long way…" She breathed.

"The only other way is through the Red line." Nikolai motioned behind him, as if the Communist territory were right on the other side of the tunnel wall.

"I know. If we can get to Revolution Square then the only hard part is going to the Library - but at that point we would have to let Artyom go first." Now she looked back at Artyom, seemingly judging from his expression if he would be up to the task or not.

"It might only work if they thought it was for ransom. Otherwise they would never believe that one Ranger caught four of us by himself." Nikolai thought out loud. Artyom wasn't very keen on the idea, but it might be their only hope.

"You don't think trying to go through Oktysabrskaya would be okay? Was it just the one guy?" Artyom supposed, looking to each of the faces of his companions and judging their expressions to be not in favor of his idea.

"Where there is one Nazi fuck, there is more." Dmitri spat.

"Alright let's stop talking and just get it done." Aleks said sternly, almost like a mother talking to her children and telling them to stop bickering. She didn't hesitate after that order to start walking again.

The tunnel leading from Novokuznetskaya towards Venice was extremely dark and moist, pipes dripped and the wooden cross ties were slick. In reality this was because the melting snow and ice from nuclear winter was overwhelming the drainage system that kept the subterranean rivers at bay. Artyom wondered how long it would take before the flooding reached the next station or the station after that, and perhaps one day their entire underground world would be drowned out by the irradiated waters.

In reality, almost half of Novokuznetskaya was already under at least a foot of water, but the left hand tunnel they remained on had a makeshift barrier past the platform that served as a sort of dock for boats. Aleks quickly handed a magazine full of shiny military grade rounds to whom Artyom guessed to be the ferryman and then beckoned the men to come forward.

"It's going to take two trips." The old ferryman with long gray hair wheezed, looking at the five of them suspiciously.

"Ivanovich, you're with me, and Artyom. If anything happens, we meet at Polis." Aleks stepped onto the boat and put a hand on her hip, reinforcing her authority.

"Don't cause any trouble or I'll swim after you." Nikolai teased, but had a serious look on his face.

Dmitri rolled his eyes at his brother, and simply gave a short salute towards Aleks.

Ivanovich nodded his understanding and all but dragged Artyom onto the boat. It was at this point that all of Roten Spaten drew their machine guns from their rucksacks. The anticipation in the room hung like a fog among the group and Artyom suddenly wondered if his brand new AK from D6 was even still in his pack and felt around for it but didn't find it. Aleks gave a salute back to the brothers as the ferryman pushed off from the dock and steered down the flooded tunnel.

Without word or warning, Aleks took out Senya's silenced Tokarev and pressed the barrel into Artyom's chest. Although he had hardly felt the motion from beneath his armor, he knew that at this close range, the vest wouldn't stop even a silenced round. Had he really come all this way only to be shot dead? His eyes pleaded, confused, looking for some kind of explanation but her face was like stone. Her eyes, though, expressed a certain sense of hopefulness.

"If you turn this gun on me, then you will never find out what's inside this cartridge." Aleks slid the barrel from his vest and used it to point to the pendant that Hunter had given her before turning it around in her hand and offering it to him. "I am trusting you, Artyom."

As if he needed any more convincing than her warning, he felt the cold blue eyes of Ivanovich piercing into him. Silently nodding his head, he took the weapon from her and strapped the holster to his belt. Running his fingers over the cold metal he welcomed the small piece of the fallen Ranger's memory back into his possession, silently breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn't actually intended to shoot him, and had only aimed at him to reinforce her message. Still, Artyom hoped things would become a little less dramatic as they continued on their journey.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the delay in uploading this chapter. I was extremely sick last week following my sister's wedding, and then there was the Thanksgiving Holiday (My husband and I cooked!) So please do forgive me. I have not lost interest in this story, I promise! I really appreciate my new followers, thank you so much for your interest!

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven:<strong>

The old ferryman navigated the small boat nimbly as they floated amongst quite a lot of debris and parts of the collapsed tunnel walls. Most of the passageway had been reinforced with crude wooden beams, making the ceiling seem even lower and constricting. There wasn't much room to stand up, as the water level was almost half the height of the enclosed space. The water itself was particularly disgusting, in its depths Artyom could see parts of sunken boats, lost baggage, weaponry, and bones of unknown beings- all covered in green slime.

Ivanovich had taken a knee and propped his rifle up in his arms; Aleks was still standing but kept her head down and hunched her shoulders. After almost getting smacked in the head by a wooden beam, Artyom decided to crouch. He definitely didn't want to end up in that water.

Fortunately, this leg of the journey was short. Each of them was beginning to lose track of their speed with the tunnel being so curvy and dark, with the only light coming from the lantern hanging next to the ferryman at the rudder. They were coming now to a gate that separated them from the station, and after speaking a few words of greeting, the man controlling the gate opened it to them. Artyom noted how even the main island platform inside the station was covered over by the murky water. More wooden docks and barriers had been built all around the edges of the area, with high walkways above them in the main vestibule.

Steering around a few men fishing from their own rigs, they docked in the heart of the recreational district. There was a small restaurant above them on a catwalk and the brothel with its red spotlights shone behind them. Residents came and went and there was much activity and chatter.

Aleks disembarked first, stepping onto the walkway and looked to both sides warily. Ivanovich turned only his head and spoke to Artyom with a jerk of it, making sure he got off the boat next before joining them on the dock.

"Alright, let's find Semyon while we wait and see if there's any news. Then we can get some pirozhki before we head out." Aleks spoke in a low voice, placing her rifle into the sling on her back.

"They make pirozhki here?" Artyom asked excitedly, trying to sniff out the location of the delight.

"Best you've ever had." She glanced over at him with a one sided smile.

Artyom now felt warm inside, he couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed such a delicacy as pirozhki. The fluffy egg dough with potato and cabbage inside reminded him of special occasions at home. Even his stepfather Sukhoi would sometimes bring him some if he had been exploring or on business for a long time, as if to make up for being away from him.

Ivanovich gave a nod in response to the ferryman as he pushed the boat away from the dock, having made brief mention of when he would be back with the other two members of their convoy. Aleks then immediately set off, seeming to know exactly where she was going. Artyom followed behind her quickly so as not to provoke Ivanovich to push him onwards. They wound their way past the bar and brothel and towards the open market in the next area of the divided station, having to use the upper walkway to cross over.

"Hey!" A rough voice called from between the arches. "You got some nerve!"

"Fuck." Aleks whispered under her breath, stepping back into Artyom and pushing him behind Ivanovich's large frame for cover.

Artyom would have protested, but he actually found it a bit funny that she was able to move him at all. He smiled to himself, recognizing a certain willingness to comply with her.

"You got a problem?" Ivanovich growled, stepping ahead of the two of them.

"Yeah, I got a problem with your boss. Thinking he owns the place, like he can just order us around." A scrawny man approached wearing a strangely adorned grey jacket that had the white version of the spade symbol on it. Several more men dressed similarly to him began to gather around after hearing the commotion.

Artyom glanced around at all the people who had turned their attention to the situation unfolding, gripping at Aleks's shoulder so as not to fall backwards as she was still pushing against him. She abruptly turned around, grabbing onto his arm, nearly running in the opposite direction with him in tow.

"We don't take threats from assholes like him, so you can tell him to step off. This is our ground!" The scrawny man yelled.

Ivanovich replied in kind, but he was quickly out of earshot as the crowd of spectators swallowed them up as they flew back down the catwalk and out of sight. Artyom only concentrated on the feel of Aleks's hand gripping his arm because whichever side she put more pressure on was the way that they were about to turn. Going around the next corner they were now in a back alley where there were small shanties built of wooden pallets and corrugated plastic.

Aleks put her back to the very corner of this hall, taking a few deep breaths. Artyom had been released a few paces from her and could only look in the direction they had come from, wondering what was going on now.

"You're just going to leave him out there alone?" Artyom asked of Aleks, suddenly fearing for Ivanovich's safety amongst the pack of criminals.

"He's not a child, Andrei can handle himself. That is why I chose him when I stared this company." She replied with an arrogant look.

Artyom didn't speak again, he just kept watching around the corner to see if he could spot anything. Venturing too far elicited a whisper from Aleks, commanding him to return to the shadows.

"Does this kind of thing happen every time you leave home?" Artyom asked, wondering not only about the hostility of this area of the Metro in general, but also what sort of information Aleks would give him about her personal experience. He imagined her to be an elite spy, pulling the strings from behind a curtain but rarely stepping foot on stage.

"Sometimes." She mused, staring at the floor, and then decided he deserved a better answer. "For Venice, it is always hostile even when it looks quiet. These idiots are always up to something, thievery usually, or scheming to do something worse. We just try to stay one step ahead of them."

"What about guards? Can't the station master do anything to stop them?"

"There aren't any guards. This place is like—"

Aleks's words were silenced by the sound of semi-automatic gunfire. Four shots rang out and there was a minute of absolute silence in the area. Both Artyom and Aleks bolted to the corner of the passage, eyes wide and searching for answers, but all that was seen was a panic – people fleeing in terror in all directions, screaming and yelling to each other. Two men came out from the brothel, blocking the entrance to the stairway that led inside, Artyom recognized from their stance that they were acting as security guards for the women inside.

Grasping on to Artyom's arm again, Aleks pulled him forward, pushing their way back through the crowd again, but now in the opposite direction. They had just run away from a potential fight and yet were now running towards the sound of gunfire. It seemed extremely strange to Artyom for the moment he had to wonder before his initial fear for Ivanovich's well-being surfaced again. He hoped that Ivanovich had been the one to shoot first, at least to protect himself, but also deeply hoped that no one had been hurt. He hoped it had just been some warning shots to scare off the bandits he had been arguing with.

Artyom finally caught step with Aleks so that she wasn't tugging on him anymore. She yelled fiercely at people to move, and then began shoving them sideways so that they could get through. He almost expected her to pull out her own pistol for effect- to fire her own warning shots- but people began to step aside when they realized that the two were going the opposite way.

There had since been silence as far as weaponry was concerned, which only made the pair forge forward even faster to see what had happened. Entering back into the market area was nearly impossible. People ran about, scattering like rats in a bright light, their panicked cries blocking out all other sounds. A fire had caught from some place in the back corner of the shops and people had abandoned the area ten feet around it, no one was even trying to put it out. It almost maddened Artyom, thinking it also a little bit ironic that a station flooded with water could even catch on fire in the first place.

Aleks swung her head back and forth, searching every corner as rapidly as she could for her comrade, but there was no sign of any of the men involved in the prior quarrel. They paused for a moment in the middle of the space, seemingly in the eye of the storm of residents and bandits alike rushing around them in circles. Artyom glanced down, noticing a smear of fresh blood on the metal grate beneath their feet, he pulled at Aleks's sleeve to get her attention and she followed his gaze, looking back up at him in pained horror.

"Aleks!" Called an unfamiliar voice from the other side of the market.

"Semyon!" Aleks called back, looking around for the source of the man she had mentioned meeting with earlier.

"Come this way! You have to leave!" A man stood across the canal waving both hands above his head. He was wearing a strange and heavy looking camouflage uniform with a yellow rubbery tunic and a black knit hat.

They began pushing again, trying to skirt past the crowd, but the ever increasing shuffle of bodies prevented them from using the walkway. Aleks looked across the way, and then jerked her head to the side, motioning for Artyom to follow her as she jumped over the barricade and onto one of the wooden boats in the middle of the canal. She hopped onto an adjacent boat and then another, crossing the gap between them and Semyon by alternative means.

"Where is Andrei?" Aleks called as they climbed onto the far walkway. She glanced behind her to make sure Artyom was still there.

"I haven't seen him, were you all here together?" Semyon glanced at Artyom curiously. "It doesn't matter now, you have to go. This way, they are loading the boats to Kitai Gorod now!"

Before either of them could ask any more questions or protest, Semyon had turned to lead them into the next section of the station. Aleks glanced over at Artyom with an apologetic look and she silently shook her head. Having conveyed that she was not expecting their journey through this area to have turned out this badly, Artyom could only stare back at her. He was panicked, too, on the inside, but wanted to show his own resolve and tact in the face of this disaster, at least to keep from worrying her more.

"I can't just leave him here, he could be hurt! Didn't you see what happened? There was blood!" Aleks yelled forward, trying to stop every few steps to talk to Semyon but he never ceased his quickened pace.

"He can take care of himself. You are more important." Semyon turned his head back to her with a solemn smile.

Rounding the next corner of the wooden walkway, they came into the next area which was entirely flooded and built up with boat docks and a few more shanties placed sporadically. People gathered here were a bit more organized, quietly moving packages and organizing themselves and their few belongings onto different boats.

"Nikolai and Dmitri are still on the ferry." Aleks grabbed at Semyon's arm, trying to make him stop and turn to talk to her.

"I'll see to them after you go. I'll make sure they are kept out of this mess." Semyon attempted again to smile and reassure her.

"I won't just leave them here!" Aleks nearly screamed at him. Artyom thought it was touchingly impressive that she would risk injury or death for her soldiers, he could indentify completely.

"You must! I have a boat for you, but they won't wait much longer. Look, I will tell them where you've gone, but please, you have to go now before someone recognizes you." Semyon had finally turned and had taken both her shoulders in his large hands, trying to impress on her the gravity of the situation that had unfolded.

Artyom could swear he saw tears in her eyes as she nodded back to him. He wondered where the two had met, and only now recognized that he must also be another emplaced member of Roten Spaten. He probably fed her information about the movements of bandits and criminals in Venice – that's what she had meant by staying one step ahead of them.

Semyon stepped back and waved them towards the edge of the dock, one last boat remained and the passengers called to them to hurry and board so that they could go. Aleks looked back at Artyom once more and they headed for the boat together, kneeling down on the edge and pushing the boat away from the dock with their feet. Semyon gave a salute before disappearing back from the way they had come.

The man steering was an older gentleman with some fishing gear hanging from pockets on his old mesh military vest. He wore plain clothes but with tall rubber boots. He hit the switch for the electric motor as they entered the main tunnel away from the station. The tall gate on this side was already open, the operator waving them on with a look of concern.

"Last one out!" Called the fisherman, and the operator nodded his head and closed the gate once they had passed through.

Artyom looked back, heaving a breath of relief, he'd hardly had time to process the whirlwind of events that had just progressed in the last few minutes, let alone how this might change the rest of their journey back to Polis. He looked over at Aleks, who sat slightly rocking with the motion of the water, her gaze fixed back toward the station, eyes glassed over and not even blinking. In any other situation, he would consider her shell shocked, but he knew she was just worried about the rest of her company. She was probably more surprised than Artyom at the turn of events, as he knew she probably visited through this area often given her knowledge of it. He assumed that nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and she was left contemplating where she might have gone wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight:**

The boat whirred along quietly despite the air of uncertainty hanging around them. People mumbled to themselves and clung to their companions, thankful to have escaped unscathed but sad to have left their station in such a state. Artyom gathered from their murmurings that they intended to return to Venice in a few hours after the chaos had died down. Apparently it was a normal thing - at least for this group - to sail out of the area when things turned bad and wait for it to blow over. Perhaps that was the only way to cope when one lived in a station mostly occupied and governed by freely roaming criminals.

Artyom looked over at Aleks, who hadn't moved since they had climbed aboard the raft. She sat in silence as they left behind every contact they'd been travelling with. Now the two were truly on their own, and she couldn't turn to her followers for support. Artyom wondered how resilient she was when alone; did she know anything at all about combat tactics or about travelling around the many places in this small underground world? Why would she press on with just himself for company when she was already extremely distrustful of him?

"Can I ask you something?" Artyom said softly, unable to contain his curiosity.

"You just did." Aleks answered without moving anything but her lips. She was still staring blankly behind them, even as the tunnel curved and the scenery changed, her eyes remained fixed.

Artyom ignored her sarcasm; he had come to expect it by now.

"Why come all this way? What is your business in Polis?" For a moment he thought it to be too personal a question, but after another moment of her stillness he felt it was a justified inquiry. He had endured enough of just going along with whomever the world decided he should befriend to places he had no business going to. He rather felt that she owed him some more answers, especially after just escaping from that misfortune in Venice. Still curious, and determined to have answers, he ventured further. "What does it say in the capsule?"

It was now that Aleks turned to meet his gaze, and a spark of that same melancholic and resentful fire burned inside her gray blue orbs. She took a deliberate breath and grasped the pendant in a fist, as if protecting it from assailants unknown.

"So you know it's a note then, anyway. Did you ever see what was on the one he gave you?"

Artyom narrowed his eyes, both annoyed that he had never been told what was in his own cartridge, and also trying to communicate without words to Aleksandrya that he wasn't going to speak until she had answered him first. He was quickly becoming a more successful conversationalist, because her expression softened and she continued.

"Inside, on the paper, there are two names signed: Hunter's… and my own." She always spoke his name as if he were nearby, with trepidation but also hope.

"What, that's all?" Artyom was puzzled. It didn't seem very significant by itself.

"Well think about it. He gave you something similar, yes? You did as he asked and went to Polis and now you are a Ranger of the Order." She showed him a sarcastic smile.

"I was just delivering his message." He explained in a low tone of voice, almost disdainfully. He had in fact felt pressured to do as Hunter requested because he had confessed his secret to him about being the one to leave the barrier open to the Dark Ones. It was damn near blackmail, in fact.

"As am I." Her voice trailed off and she resumed staring in the direction they had come from.

Artyom followed her example, hoping that emulating her pensive bearing would help him come to his own conclusions. Although he wanted to continue on his streak of successful dialogue with her, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to ask next. He had never viewed his becoming a Ranger as any type of established or expected reward for doing as Hunter had asked of him. As far as he'd known at the time he was simply delivering the news of his disappearance - telling the commander that his soldier had gone missing - and then Artyom would return home to VDNKh, unless it was written in Artyom's cartridge that the person delivering it should be Hunter's replacement? Was that how the Order operated at the most senior levels? And if so, what was the purpose of Aleksandrya's cartridge? It couldn't possibly have the same meaning as his own.

"Hey you're going the wrong way; we need to go to Revolution Square." Aleks turned around suddenly and pointed down the opposite tunnel for effect.

"We can't go there; some of us are refugees. We go towards Kitai Gorod and wait at the end of the ferry line, and then we go back." The old fisherman looked down at her with a frown.

"Are you kidding? There are mutants on this side of the barricade! And are any of you armed?" Aleks looked around at the faces of the passengers, whose expressions were beginning to turn fearful.

"This is all because of you anyway!" An old woman cried out, being cradled by a younger man who was probably her son. He also nodded in agreement.

"Everything was quiet today until you and your men showed up, I saw it myself!" Another passenger spoke up. All eyes were pointed at Aleks, including Artyom whose eyes were just as wide as the others but for different reasons. First, he was impressed with the fact that these people thought he was part of Roten Spaten and also in wonderment of what Aleks would do next.

"Really, this is what you're doing? Blaming me for all of your problems because you let a pack of wild animals dictate your lives!" Aleks stood up, although not as tall as she might have wanted to, due again to the tunnel being constricted by the flooding.

Artyom moved onto one knee, ready to follow behind Aleks no matter what might happen, or perhaps even to defend her if things went badly again. She was his last remaining companion after all, and he doubted he would be able to get through the Red Line without her or any of his original gear.

Although it wasn't the proper time to be distracted by his thoughts, he remembered that he'd never actually double checked his rucksack for his effects. Certainly Aleks and Roten Spaten couldn't have deprived him of his possessions; at least he knew his Spartan uniform was inside there because he had put it in himself before they left Avtozavodskaya.

Fumbling with his pack, he did his best to keep his eyes on the situation as he rummaged under the flap. Underneath the tough fabric of his uniform, he felt the smooth round form of his helmet and gas mask, a grand prize to be sure! The Spartan helmets were ones specially built with the air filters attached to a visor mask that was hinged in, making a complete package. Behind the helmet he felt the cold steel of his new model machine gun that he had been issued in D6. It was all there, everything he had started out with was still intact and available to him. He unclipped the other strap on the rucksack quickly and began to re-equip himself.

"Fine! It's not like I want to go back to your damned mess of a station anyway!" Aleks retorted, continuing her argument with the passengers. Her voice lowered as she spoke her final and foreboding warning to them. "When the mutants come, remember that you could have had me defending you."

Artyom garnered from her inflection that they were about to be abandoned on the wrong side of Kitai Gorod station, and wouldn't be returning to Venice on the boat. A pang of fear struck his heart as he gazed ahead to where they were about to reach the end of the river. Although nothing was moving, the eerie darkness prevailed. The area was penetrated by a bright ray of light from a hole in the tunnel ceiling, eroded in the middle of the platform by water trickling down from the surface. Remarkably, the consistency of the air did not change as they approached the dock; he would have thought the gaping hole to the open sky would have brought with it a gust of the sludgy atmosphere he had endured in other places outside of the Metro. Still, he lowered the visor of his helmet and sealed it over his face just in case.

Aleks pulled the strap of her own rucksack higher on her shoulder and then put both hands back on her weapon, eagerly awaiting the edge of the platform and perhaps even an encounter with the mutants that she professed were inhabiting this area. It seemed as if she wanted to shoot at something as an excuse to let off steam and to prove to the irritated refugees that she had been right about going down the other tunnel.

The bottom of the boat began to lightly scrape against the crossties beneath them, and Aleks did not hesitate to jump onto the concrete platform at the earliest opportunity. Not even looking back at Artyom she walked straight into the abandoned station vestibule, making a low grunt as she did. He hurried after her, taking a large step from the boat and then paused for a moment to turn back to the passengers. Each of them looked at him with a slightly worried expression, maybe feeling guilty that they were marooning the two strangers in this vacant place alone.

He wanted to say something, or at least thank them for the ride, but then he heard his name echoing distantly off the dirty tile down the hall and simply waved goodbye to the fisherman before turning to follow her voice.

"Stay close. They could jump out at any moment." Aleks whispered once she heard his footsteps close in behind her. Artyom heard the switch on her rifle click off from the safe position.

"Where do we go now?" He whispered, keeping his own rifle pointed to cover their right side, which was the side that was open to the hopefully empty darkness.

"They've built up a huge barricade in the left hand tunnel where there's a bandit hideout. Most of the right tunnel is collapsed, but halfway down the station there's a transfer passage that goes towards Kuznetsky Most. We may be able to get through there." She then switched on the tactical flashlight on the underside of her rifle, its bright yellowish beam quivering with anticipation from the cracked tile wall to the mildew covered ceiling.

"And, if not?" Artyom's voice was suddenly hoarse.

"There's a stairway exit on the other platform that goes to the surface."

Aleks stopped abruptly and held up her right hand; up until now they had been slowly creeping along the damp platform with silent steps.

Artyom turned on his headlamp and put his back to her, straining his ears to listen for any sound other than their breathing, which was hard to do from underneath his helmet. There was a light scratching sound coming from his right, where they had just been walking, and he scanned along the corner where the wall met the floor, searching for movement. He nearly jumped when he felt Alek's hand slip underneath the bottom edge of his armored vest, pulling him as she began to sneak forward again. Why was she always pulling him along behind her? He stepped backwards carefully, not wanting to step on her heels, still scanning every crevice his flashlight could penetrate.

The tension between and around them subsided as silence prevailed, and Aleks released her grasp on his vest and began to walk at a normal pace towards the right tunnel. Turning around to join her, Artyom lit the wall in search of the doorway to the transfer passage while Aleks kept her light scanning the floor and opposite wall for obstacles or enemies.

A light affirmative breath emanated from Artyom's lips when his light reflected on the gray rectangular door they had been searching for, alerting Aleks to its presence. She aimed her weapon and light down the open tunnel to their left, it seemed to stretch on further than Artyom had been imagining when she mentioned that it was collapsed. Finding nothing notable, she lowered her rifle and tried the handle of the door with no success.

"Its rusted shut." She kicked it hard twice, but the door did not give way.

Artyom too, tried the door in vain, and gave a grunt to signal his surrender.

"We'll have to go up." Aleks said with a notable tremor in her voice, her eyes scanning the ceiling as if she could see through it.

Then, a most chilling and unfortunately familiar howl left Artyom's hair standing on end, his whole body was electrified at the sound. He watched in slow motion as Aleks had her weapon aimed, flicked the safety off, and started to walk backwards towards the platform. Artyom could only think to light the way and keep his own weapon ready until she spoke up, not know where the exit was.

"On the left, the hall opens up and there's a switch!" She kept her body close against his, trusting that he was watching for debris and their escape route at the same time.

"I see it!" He called as his flashlight illuminated the yellow box beside the iron barricade.

Aleks took a knee on the other side of the hallway, her eyes watching down her sights into the abyss of the abandoned station. Artyom slung his own rifle over his shoulder as he realized he would need two hands to pry open the cover to the control panel.

"Artyom!" Aleks yelled with fright laced through her voice, indicating that they didn't have much time left before the horde reached them. "I'll try to slow them down!"

Reaching over her shoulder, she pulled a small object from a pocket on her rucksack; Artyom recognized it as some sort of homemade grenade. She pulled off the pin and cast it out onto the open tracks, immediately ducking her head down under both her arms. Artyom was not as quick to react, and found himself wanting to watch the effect; he was only able to tear his eyes away at the last moment to pull the thick lever down to open the door for them.

A flash of fiery light exploded from the center of the area, momentarily illuminating the station and all its disparaging details. The noise of the explosion became nothingness, and after a moment of confused silence, Artyom blinked his eyes several times, the blur finally subsiding but his ears still ringing from the constant noise; the noise of Aleksandrya's machine gun. She was firing blindly into the empty space, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Peering into the darkness peppered with her muzzle fire he could see the reflections of their eyes, the hundred pairs glaring back at them both hungrily. He lunged to the other side of the door for the mechanism and pulled the lever down. The heavy metal barrier began to scrape closed again as the motor whirred and coughed. Aleks had just emptied her magazine and begun to push herself backwards across the floor with her feet.

Without a thought, his arm was around her waist and he was pulling her back along the floor. Her weapon skidded along the hard concrete and she looked as if she might pass out. The door was closing quickly now, Artyom kicked his feet hard against the frame and freed them from its path. It slammed shut with a creak and only then did his muscles relax. He lay back and closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

He could hear Aleks panting now, and felt her breathing against him, he looked her over for signs of injury and finding nothing notable, he started to look over his own body.

"That was close." Aleks almost laughed, drawing her machine gun up against her side, and then cradling it to her chest like a treasured pet or child.

"Yeah..." Artyom breathed. He wanted to speak but didn't know what to say; he was so overwhelmed by the day's turn of events that he'd barely had time to process the misfortune they had been subject to since leaving Avtozavodskaya.

They lay at the bottom of the escalators, the morning haze came down in streams from the ruined ceiling above them, cracked tiles showed through between the patches of moss and vines. Water dripped from one corner of the building down and through the floor to a small room beside them, making a pleasant sound.

"Thanks, for pulling me out." Aleks said quietly, looking down at her weapon. She seemed disappointed, or sad. He couldn't tell which.

He was about to tell her it wasn't a problem, but as he looked over, the light on her face and the red tone in her hair caught his eye and he couldn't look away. He couldn't think of anything else but her, that she was safe, and he was somehow relieved.

"Hey, are you okay, or what?" Her expression changed to worry and then one eyebrow was raised quizzically.

"Y-you need... a mask." He stammered, coming back to reality and helping to pull her gas mask from her bag.

She put it on without a word and then sighed gently, looking up the steps of the escalator. Artyom gathered himself up and straightened his clothing and rucksack, checking that his air filter was fresh and his weapon was still functional. Aleks had begun to ascend the creaky metal steps with great care, and he hurried to catch up with her. He deeply hoped that she knew where to go next, but decided not to voice his concerns. He simply looked ahead, bringing his mind back to that calm moment where only her pale face existed and the concerns of the hostile underground melted away.


End file.
